Stuff your face

Photo copyright sualk61 via Creative Commons License.

I recently received an email from a reader asking me about my relationship to food as a model, or more specifically if I'm a foodie since I get to travel so much. Shamefully I realized over the weekend that I hadn't yet responded to that email (sorry dude) but perked up when it hit me that this deserves an entire blog post of its own.

While I have done fashion modeling work, I am more of a commercial model. The difference for those of you who are uninitiated in the subtle (evil) ways of the biz is that commercial models are used in advertising for anything from eyeglasses to, well, cars, while fashion models are the uber-tall heroin-chic exoticas on the runway and in the pages of Vogue, as well as in ads for high-end clothing lines.

What this really translates to is that commercial models can eat more than a carrot stick once a day.

We still have to stay slim and trim, of course, but we can be a bit more "real" looking than fashion models. This means I can more often partake in one of my favorite activities: eating. Part of me wishes I lived in Mauritania where fat is beautiful so I could eat pasta and fried chicken all day long. Alas, I have to make sure my auto show wardrobe fits throughout the season. Also, I don't want to be a total fat-ass regardless of my profession, but mmmmmm I do like delicious things.

I have some basic food rules: No fast food. No soda. Whole grain bread, brown rice instead of their empty calorie white flour counterparts. As little processed food as possible. I love going out to eat at locally-owned restaurants when I'm traveling, but that can get pricey and fattening very quickly. We often will request hotel rooms with a fridge and microwave and hit the local Whole Foods to stock up on heathy meals. (Usually healthy. One time it gave me food poisoning. That's a great way to drop some LBs fast, except it sucks, especially when you don't get paid sick days and have to spend hours on a spinning platform trying not to puke and/or crap on some knob telling you to smile OMGstabstabstab.)

I think most of the men and women who work the auto show circuit eat in a similar manner, at least most of the ones I've seen eat. However, I did witness a glaring exception to this rule.

Remember our old friends with Fiat/Chrysler/Dodge/Jeep? In the skin tight mini dresses that your taxpayer money paid for? Those dresses were so tight that if those poor girls ate a cherry tomato they'd look seven months pregnant. I was eating lunch in the quiet basement food court at the Javitz Center during the New York show and saw one of these unfortunate ladies and her sad little lunch: a small baggie of baby carrots (I think I counted four sad little carrots in there) and a single container of that yogurt that makes you poop. I can not fathom getting through a shift at the New York Auto Show, of all shows, on so little sustenance. I want to kick someone just thinking about it.

Truly, the greatest point of a show is when one of the girls buys a block of fudge and forces it on the rest of us so she won't eat it all herself. I don't know how anyone could possibly get through the complete derangement of the Chicago Auto Show without Ryba Fudge. It's my Xanax. No nuts please; I deal with enough of those at work.

PS - Can someone please remind me to turn on Safe Search when I Google images? You don't want to know what turned up with the combo of words auto+show+model+eating. Don't even think about model+eating+pie. Jesus.

Oops

Oh boy, wouldyalookatthat. Been a while since my last update. I haven't forgotten about you, my dearies. I've simply been loving my time off. However, I will be back Sunday or Monday with a piece on everybody's favorite subject outside of sex: food! Tune in.

Shoot the gap

It's always the ones you least expect.

I've heard the same story so many times from sales guys: Some guy wearing dirty old clothes comes into the dealership and is ignored by one salesperson, and when he comes back the next day in a suit (because he's actually filthy rich but likes to mow his own lawn for sh!ts and giggles) he gives his business to someone else who didn't pre-judge him.

Now, I can pretty much tell who's going to be a total knob to me from the next display over. I can see it in the expression on your face when you're talking to the other brand's booth babes, by the way you carry yourself. And yet, I refrain from judgement (outwardly at least) and talk to you anyway in the same friendly way I do the non-knobs, until you piss me off. And even then I just end the conversation and walk away. I don't even punch you in the junk! 

Point is, I don't judge a book by its cover because on rare occasion the pre-spotted knobs have turned out to be cool. And the lady you think will only be interested in vanity mirrors and cup holders may have a nascent need for speed that only you can help develop.

I love it when a woman pushing a stroller asks me to compare torque numbers within our lineup.

I love it when a 7-year-old girl rattles off more technical specs than a Detroit engineer.

I love it when I overhear Grandmas talk about the "real" purpose of rear seat privacy shades (naughty Grandma). It's always far less creepy than when Grandpa does the same.

I love it when I shock the hell out of some know-it-all by, well, knowing it all.

Don't assume, kids. Ass. You. Me. Etc.

Parenting at its finest

Yes, really.
By the way, America isn't part of Asia. If I catch any of you b!tches doing this at one of my shows I'm getting your a$$ kicked out.

(Thanks for the tip, Ray!)

Booth Babe Media

It's been a fun media week for yours truly here at Do You Come with the Car!

My weekly column at TheTruthAboutCars.com is super fun to write, and this week's post was no exception. I've been seeing some pretty sweet rides around town and wanted to share the beauty - check it out... My column appears every Sunday, so keep your eyes open for it!

I was also interviewed for a story on the current and changing role of product specialists for a piece at Autos.Sympatico.ca. Another fun one, just trying to spread the word that we're more than pretty faces... You can find the story here: Heels and Wheels.

I wanted to print the interview in its entirety... There's some stuff he didn't use (which is totally fine; it didn't really change the context of anything he did use) and I think being able to read the whole thing gives a fuller picture. Many thanks to Michael Banovsky for the awesome story, for thinking of me in the first place and for generally being awesome!

How did you come across this job?
I was doing convention work and was staffed as a local at an auto show - meaning I was there to assist the product specialists with things like lead generation, not to talk about the cars. I liked their job a lot better!

How long have you been working in this capacity?
I have been an automotive product specialist for four years, but have been doing other types of experiential automotive marketing as well as a working fashion, commercial and promotional/convention model for much longer.

What’s the proper term for your work?
The sharp-dressed people like me at the auto show who talk about the vehicles on the mic or one-on-one are called product specialists. I use the term "booth babe" on my blog as a facetious nod to those who use it derisively.
 
On your blog, you talk a lot about a lack of etiquette during the auto show. Do you think it comes with the territory or is there something deeper?
It isn't just a lack of etiquette, although the public at large certainly does seem to have forgotten how to use the key phrases "please," "thank you," and "excuse me." This job has opened my eyes to the still-strong undercurrent of sexism in our society. When I try to discuss this on my blog I receive comments such as, "What do you expect when you're wearing a miniskirt?" A) We don't wear miniskirts, we wear business suits or cocktail attire (except for the Fiat brands, but that's a whole other can of worms) and B) It doesn't matter what myself or anyone else is wearing - everyone deserves respect regardless of their appearance. It quickly became apparent to me that a large segment of men think an attractive woman can't possibly know anything about cars. Frankly, I know more than most of the salespeople and nearly all the attendees. My favorite moments at the show are when a male salesperson sends an incredulous dude my way to get an answer to a technical question.

Have you heard stories of the “old days”? Do you think your work is becoming more progressive? Why/why not?
Margery Krevsky, the President/CEO of Productions Plus (which casts a huge chunk of the talent you see at the auto show) recently wrote a book called "Sirens of Chrome" which details the history of the auto show model and how our role changed throughout the years. We started literally as hood ornaments and now are the go-to experts not just at the auto show, but at marketing events across the country. Margery recognized years and years ago that we could contribute to automotive marketing on a much larger scale than just standing around looking pretty. We are walking, talking product handbooks, and how well we answer questions about the vehicles we represent has a direct impact on whether that attendee will buy our car or one of our competitor's.

What sort of training do you do before a show?
Every year we have an intensive training session lasting several days in which we go over every vehicle on our lineup with a fine tooth comb, learning all the new features and how they compare not only to the previous model year but to competitive vehicles. Our trainers, all of whom have engineering backgrounds, have intimate knowledge of not just our product line but automotive technology in general. We leave with piles and piles of information - literally a suitcase full - that we digest during the ensuing weeks before the auto show season starts. Sometimes some of this info is rather top secret, albeit temporarily - it might have to do with details of a concept the company is working on or a new vehicle release or redesign, the details of which have not yet been released to the press. They want us to have time to learn everything by the time the information does go public. Throughout the year we are constantly kept up-to-date with new information as it becomes available.

How many products are you required to know about?
We are required to know every vehicle on our lineup. Sometimes you'll be drawn to a particular vehicle and take a special interest in the minute details of that one, but we must be able to speak in depth about each and every vehicle we offer. We also need to know at least a little something about the direct competitors to each of our vehicles - people will always ask why ours is better or how it is different.

What’s a typical day of working on the show floor?
We usually work in six hour shifts, unless we're doing a double which can bring the day anywhere between 10-14 hours. (Six hours might not seem like a long time, but you try standing there in 5-inch heels under hot lights answering the same questions over and over while people try to sneak photos of your butt and make snide comments about everything you can imagine. Now think about doing that for 14 hours. Now I'd like to introduce you to my friend, the dirty martini.) Anyway, we get to the show, settle our bags in, change into our torture chamber shoes, grab a coffee immediately before our shifts start. Then we just jump right into the madness: depending on our brand and our job responsibilities, we can be doing anything from presenting a vehicle on a platform with a mic to lead generation to manning the information desk, or even just floating around our display area being available to answer questions.

In recent years, I’ve noticed more men on the show that are closer to spokesperson and stand stander (with colour-coded outfits!) than their usual role of buttoned-down expert or salesman. Are more men becoming “models” or (as Jalopnik calls ‘em) “booth professionals”? Why? Equality or…?
There are lots of male product specialists! I'd say the job is about 2/3 female and 1/3 male overall, but for some manufacturers the mix is more like 50/50, and some 90/10 female. The guys (booth bros?) have the same sort of background that the women do: actors, models, other performers and pro drivers who have a keen interest in cars and don't puke at the thought of speaking in front of a huge crowd. There are more women then men who do this, and I think it will probably stay that way for the foreseeable future. The job was traditionally female, so we already have a larger presence because of that, but a lot of women attend these shows and they just seem to be more comfortable talking to another woman. I think attendees assume any guy in a suit at the display is a salesperson and therefor to be avoided, so sometimes even the men who think a "booth babe" can't possibly know more than they do about cars will come to us instead of the guy. Plus, the guys really moan about wearing the stilettos. ; )

Why do you think women and cars are paired together so often?
People, male or female, are naturally drawn to things that are aesthetically pleasing. A beautiful car and a beautiful woman in front of a beautiful vista is much nicer to look at than a beautiful car with some snaggletoothed, unwashed hillbilly draped across the hood in a ghetto parking lot. I'm sure there's also some sort of subtext along the lines of "Which is faster, the sports car or the babe laying on it?" At the auto show it's all about getting people into your display and keeping them there. Beautiful cars and beautiful product specialists might get people into the display, but our approachability and most importantly our knowledge keep them there.

Learn how to drive

So as it turns out, I'm not just pissed off at the auto show. I'm pissed off behind the wheel, too. Hmmm, this ire does seem to be all auto-related...

Anyway:

Oh my f-ing god people, can you please learn how to drive?

The things I see on the road every day are horrifying and appalling. I truly have no idea how nearly all of you get your fat a$$es from McDonalds to the bowling alley without killing yourselves and everyone on the road with you.

I just love it when I see people swerving, cutting others off, driving too slow, driving too fast and generally being menaces while on their cell phones. That's my favorite. I also love the parents who are turned all the way around in the drivers seat to yell at their kids while barreling down the highway at 70 MPH, the teenagers reaching down to the floor of the passenger side to grab their fallen iPods (I know a girl that died doing this; she swerved into oncoming traffic and was hit head-on by a semi), the scaredy cats going a whopping 2 miles over the speed limit who slam on their brakes at the first hint of a Crown Vic.

Red light runners, people who leave their blinkers on for eight miles after they turn, people who don't use their blinkers when changing lanes, Unnecessary Trucks straddling two lanes, slow cars in left lane, motorcyclist splitting lanes (I don't care if it's legal where you live, it's stupid), tailgaters, and especially the people that weave in and out of traffic, racing up to the next car, panting on my bumper to wait for the chance to gain one car length, then do it again to the next guy.

Look d-bag, I don't drive slow. Unless you've bought me dinner get off my a$$.

And god help you if you're confronted with a traffic circle. I have seen people thrown into full-blown panic attacks trying to figure these things out. It's a f-ing circle with yield signs, people. If you don't know how to handle a yield sign (which, by the way, was on your drivers license test) then you shouldn't be on public roads.

So when you come to the auto show and talk about how you would either A) drive the sh!t out of this car or B) run circles around this car in whatever POS you currently drive I know that 9 times out of 10 you're a moron who will be lucky to make it out of the convention center parking lot in one piece.

A narcissist's manifesto

I'm often accused here of being completely self-involved, vain, shallow and full of myself. (I am never accused of this offline, by the way. Not to my face, at least.) I have wondered more than once - pretty much every day, actually - if I would be accused of the same sins were I a male product specialist writing the exact same observations, replacing the male pervs with female.

I don't think I would. In fact, I think the male readers who currently bemoan my attitude would be sending me internet high-fives.

Justine Musk (soon-to-be ex-wife of Tesla head Elon Musk) offered the following observation on her own blog, Moschus:

"The attitude seems to be that personal, confessional blogging ('female' blogging) is narcissistic, and authority blogging ('male' blogging) is not.

Personal blogging takes the blogger's own life and turns it into narrative. Stories.

Authority blogging establishes the blogger as an 'authority' in some particular niche, and relates information that (theoretically) solves a problem the reader might have or teaches something that the reader wants to know. An authority blogger usually has a product or service to sell you."

The designation of 'female' blogging and 'male' blogging is more one of attitude than actual gender.

This blog has always been meant to be both confessional and authoritative. I'm writing my personal experiences from the standpoint of an expert in the field - someone who has never done my job could never write about it, just as I could never pen a blog about nonexistent experiences working in an ER. Is it self-indulgent? I don't see how. I don't get any real-life attention from this since I must remain anonymous. I don't post photos of myself posed enticingly next to vehicles, fishing for compliments.

So I'm not sure where a lot of the vitriol comes from. Is it because I take the occasional shot that bruises the fragile male ego? Is it because a certain type of male can't reconcile the idea of an attractive female who has no sexual interest in him actually being intelligent? Is it because they recognize themselves in the types of creeps I call out here?

Probably a combination, and more. The human psyche is so terribly complicated.

Anyway, I'm not going to apologize for what I write. There are a lot of a$$holes at auto shows. I write about them. The end. If you recognize a piece of yourself in anything I've ever written, my advice to you is that instead of trying to tear me down, you spend that time and energy: A) applying multiple layers of deodorant, B) learning how to talk to a woman respectfully while looking her in the EYES, and C) putting in some quality time on the treadmill.

While you're doing that, I'll be writing. Cheers!

There are no stupid questions...

...just stupid people.

The amount of incredibly stupid things I heard people say at the auto show this year was truly mind-boggling. I don't think people actually got stupider this year; maybe I was just paying more attention because I was looking for blog material.

But really, we got some stupid, stupid questions. Not just me, but all of us at every manufacturer from every country and in every vehicle type. Stupid, stupid questions.

This year, Detroit took the prize for idiocy. In fact, the stupid question of the year award goes to a Detroit show visitor who, while driving a car in the ride and drive in the green car section in the BASEMENT of Cobo Hall, asked:

"Does this car run on solar power?"

Really, people. Come on, now. Do you know your own name? How to get back to your house? Tie your shoes? Not stab yourself in the eye when eating with a fork?

Let's think about this for a minute. Is there sun in the basement? Does the sun have magical rays that pierce through layers of concrete to power the vehicle you are currently driving and obviously must have some source of power? No?

Then no, this car is not solar powered. Jesus.

PS - Check out this week's column over at TheTruthAboutCars.com!

Smile!

“Smile!” you say, leering at me, usually with a camera in hand. “It can’t be that bad!”

No, despite your rank breath it is not that bad - you just happened to catch me at the one millisecond of my day that I thought maybe someone wasn’t staring at me, waiting for me to be less than perfect so they could call me out on it. It is my job to smile, to “spin and grin” as we call it, and I do it gladly. I like my job, as I’ve said before; it isn’t brain surgery, it pays well and I like cars so I’m interested in the material.

What I am not interested in is smiling on cue because you told me to. Despite being a spokesmodel, I am not, in fact, a dancing monkey. No really, look it up - the two are not actually the same thing. I smile because it is my job, true, but just because you happened to catch me taking a whopping five seconds of my day trying to rest my face (fake smiling hurts after a while) does not mean you can be boring. And telling me to smile like that is one of the most boring things I hear all day.

I’d like to see you smile for 10 hours straight while wearing 5-inch heels on a spinning platform while dirty old (and young) men try to snap pictures up your skirt. I dream of smiling while kicking your camera out of your hand. That’s when I smile.

Seriously, give me five seconds to roll my eyes and pick my nose in peace. (Shut up, you know you do it too.)

I do wish some manufacturer would decide that the pissed off punk demographic is where it's at so I could stand on a platform snarling and giving people the finger. Wouldn't that be a fun job? Especially to those jackoffs who change their kids diapers right in front of me.

Where my mothafathers at?

Dear Toyota Auto Show Performance Team,
Drop the rest of your act. Drop the Sultry Sienna song, Let Your Unnecessary Truck Grow or whatever the hell you're singing, screw the Avalon Lounge act.

If the rest of your auto show brethren must listen to you singing the same songs at high volume over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over for days and weeks at a time for months on end, then next season make it this incredibly awesome one.

Be thankful the client isn't having you do it on top of the flaming spiral of death. Yet. You know it is being considered at some saki-fueled happy hour.

xoxo
The Booth Babe

PS I'll give you 20 bucks. Doooooooo eeeeeeeeeeeet.
PPS You sound great as-is. But THIS. Do it.
PPPS Sorry for two Toyota commercials in a row, but it had to happen.
PPPPS Check out this week's column at TheTruthAboutCars.com: Punch buggy black and blue

Interrupt this

Do you have one of those jobs involving long, pointless meetings? I used to and I hated it, so I got myself a cool job instead. Anyway, in one of those meetings, let's say you were in the middle of a presentation, really getting into the meat of your big new idea that's going to save the company millions and earn you a big promotion, when all of a sudden - in the middle of a sentence - some jackass busts in and starts shouting questions at you.

Welcome to every day of my life.

Seriously dude. I am in the middle of my presentation. I am on a spinning platform, trying very hard not to fall on my ass on the incredibly slippery surface, telling you everything there is to know about this car. If you could wait thirty seconds and, oh, I don't know, maybe actually listen to the words that are coming out of my mouth then you'd have the answer to your question. If I don't answer your question during my presentation, I will be more than happy to do so afterwards.

I guarantee during my presentation I will cover horsepower, torque, 0-60, new features for this model year, safety features, any big bells and whistles. I will not make competitor comparisons on the mic, at least not by naming names, and I probably will not say the price on the mic - I find that to be distasteful - but am happy to tell you all about every single trim level there is and line item competitive comparisons when I'm done. STOP YELLING AT ME.

If you had any sense of the definition of polite, you would realize how rude it is to start shouting questions at someone who is clearly in the middle of a presentation. You don't think you're out of line for doing this? Try it at your next work meeting and see what happens. Then let me know how long that unemployment line is.

Doody!

I get a lot of flack here on this blog of mine for being too hard on people. Some commenters think I'm snobby, that I'm being judgmental when I suggest people shower and brush their teeth before coming to the auto show. These people are really going to hate me now, because I am about to suggest something totally outlandish: that you crap in the bathroom. And not just in the bathroom, but in a toilet in the bathroom. And then flush. Don't forget to wash your hands.

But whatever you do, for the love of god, DO NOT TAKE A SH!T ON THE SHOW FLOOR.

The bathroom is right there! See the big giant sign? The one that says "Restrooms"? That is where one goes to relieve oneself of the bodily waste created when you shovel three chili cheese dogs into the gut overflowing your stylish Lee jeans.

You do not go in the middle of the display floor.

Unfortunately, not everyone knows this handy rule of thumb.

One morning, I am told, the early shift of booth babes arrived at their post. While walking the floor to prep for the day's crowds, they discovered a large chunk of what was most decidedly not a Baby Ruth, just laying there on the floor.

Where did it come from? How did it get there? Was it some sort of political message or could this person just not walk another 20 feet to the bathroom? The world will never know.

This was discovered minutes before the show opened and the crowds rushed in. The booth babes sure as heck weren't going to touch it, but they did form a sort of human chain around it to block attendees from getting too close while making sure none of them knew what they were being blocked from. Figuring no one would believe them if they tried to call it in, someone was sent to grab the cleaning crew in person.

This is not the only auto show poop story out there. Oh no, my friends, there are more people - many more people - who believe in freedom from such restrictive man-made ideological theories as pooping in bathrooms, that mankind and mankind's poop deserves to be free. That's great. Poop all over your yard like a dog if that's what you want to do. Just keep it out of my display, you disgusting cretin.

PS - Don't forget to check out this week's column over at TheTruthAboutCars.com: The Psychology of Auto Show Marketing.

Is that a tire iron in your pocket or are you happy to see me?

Keep an eye on the red shorts... I think that last woman would actually come with the car if he was buying.

I don't want your man

Ladies, I need you to do me a favor. You've got to dial down the hate.

It never fails. A young couple, usually teenagers or not far from it, will stop in front of my spinning platform and while the guy asks questions (regardless of whether or not he's trying to look down my shirt) his girl is busy trying to poison me with haterade.

Honey, first of all I've got a man. He's way hotter than yours and actually pulls his pants all the way up when he gets dressed. Second of all, don't hate me because I'm beautiful. (Sorry, I've always wanted to say that!) No really, second of all, it's not my fault that your man is a dog who can't keep his eyes where they belong: on you.

The auto show is full of eye candy for men. Between the cars and the models some of them truly do not know what to do with themselves. I literally had a 12-year-old ask for my number once. (Seriously, I asked him how old he was. That's another entry for another day.) The crazy thing is that most of the product specialists, Fiat brands aside, are dressed pretty conservatively nowadays in business suits and knee-length skirts, but I can assure you that the girls who are still working in tight little dresses are giving up nothing more than a coquettish smile.

So ladies, please remember it is not my fault that your man approached me and started a conversation. In fact, it is my job to talk with him about the cars and be friendly, as long as he isn't a jackass. If you don't want to see it, don't come to the auto show. Instead, perhaps your time might be better spent working on your self esteem issues or finding a more gentlemanly man friend.

I promise, I don't want your man.

Put your shoes back on, you pig

Today while working the New York International Auto Show I saw no less than three people walk through my display barefoot. BARE. FOOT. No shoes. No socks. Gross feet on gross floor, carrying their shoes. All three were women.

So here's what I assume happened: These dumb b!tches decided to break out their new strappy summer sandals for the first time in this glorious New York spring weather, on a day when they would be walking a good half mile at least just to get from their parking spot to Javitz, then another solid three hours on multiple floors covering the show and then were SHOCKED! SURPRISED! ASTOUNDED! when their feet started bleeding out.

First of all, don't come crying to me for sympathy. I stand in four-inch stilettos for anywhere from 6 to 13 hours a day. Let me play my iPhone app of the world's tiniest violin for you. Don't be stupid. Wear cute flats or riding boots.

Second of all, this isn't your living room. By the end of the show this carpet will have been walked on by 1.2 million people, all of whom have just walked through Manhattan streets. Have you looked at the streets in New York City? Have you seen what's on them? Allow me to enlighten you.

Here are some things I've walked through this week on NYC streets and sidewalks:
- Pee (human and animal)
- Gasoline
- Spit
- Chewed gum
- Tobacco juice
- Rancid milk
- Coal dust
- Dog sh!t
- Baby vomit

And then do you know what happens? I walk on the carpet at the auto show in those very same shoes! And so does everyone else in attendance! And all that grody crap that's on the bottom of our shoes is transferred onto the carpet! And then you walk on the carpet in your bare feet! So you now have pee, gasoline, spit, chewed gum, tobacco juice, rancid milk, coal dust, dog sh!t and baby vomit all over the bottoms of your nasty a$$ feet.

And you wonder why your pedicure lady starts talking smack about you in Korean as soon as you sit in the spa chair?

Too much junk in your trunk

Sometimes I can predict a conversation at the auto show from 20 feet away, long before I ever approach the person. While I learned long ago never to judge a person's station in life by appearance alone (that guy in the dirty work clothes may well drive a Lambo), you can certainly tell a lot about a person by the way they carry themselves and observed behavior.

When I see a large person make a face while climbing in and out of a car, I know this is the first thing they will say to me:

"The seat is too small. You make them smaller every year."

The seat is not too small. The seat is not any smaller than it was last year or five years ago.

The seat is not too small. Your a$$ is too big.

I understand that there are some cars that are, in fact, very small, and have smaller seats, and that sports seating can make a difference. I am not talking about these cars. I am talking about large sedans with some of the biggest, cushiest seats in their class. They are not too small. You are too big. And you keep getting bigger.

If you want to be big, that's your business. I am not here to comment on your struggle with weight loss or why you turn to food to comfort yourself after yet another booth babe shoots down your gross pick up attempt. (Large women rarely make this claim, interestingly. It is always the men.)

But it's time to get honest here. Do not blame my manufacturer for making seats smaller. That is patently ridiculous, and I have the measurements from the past ten years at my fingertips to prove that very point. The seats are not smaller, the dry cleaner did not shrink your pants, you are not "fluffy" or "big boned" and you're not Octomom eating for eight. If the seats in a full sized sedan are too small for you, then A) Please don't sit next to me on a plane and B) You need to stop lying to yourself and placing the blame for your discomfort on everything but the real issue.

Like I said, if you want to be big, go for it. It's your business (until my health insurance premiums go up to compensate for your weight-related illness costs). Don't blame your difficulties functioning in the world on external issues when it is your own body that is holding you back. If you're going to live it, own it.

It's not the seats. It's you.

Blood on the show floor: The New York Auto Show

Ah, New York. This big show wraps the season for most of us, although there are a couple of small regional shows in the next month. Some find NY to be the most challenging show (I personally give that crown to Chicago). Some would do anything to avoid working this show (I give that crown to Detroit). Some request this show year after year to revel in the energy of the city and the opportunity to play here with someone else footing the travel bill (that would be me).

I love love love NYC, but this show certainly does have its challenges. New York crowds are tough. They talk back when you're narrating, they get mouthy, and we always have a lot more vandalism here than in any other city (although this year, Chicago was really bad in this area). And sometimes they get violent, because obviously the auto show is the best place to vent your frustrations about your misspent life and the injustices incurred therein.

One luxury manufacturer was particularly affected by this last year. Another booth babe tells me this unfortunate area had not one but two fist fights in their display at the New York Auto Show, both of which happened in full view of the public and involved bodily fluids.

The first is my favorite: an overzealous security guard took a swing at a dealer associate because the guard felt the sales guy was too close to one of the prototype cars. The sales guy hit back. The cops were called. No charges were filed because there was not an independent witness to verify who took the first swing, but the sales guy was far more believable and the security guard (who was apparently being a jerk to others) was fired. The sales guy had a bloody lip and a shiner, but came back to work the show. That's dedication!

Later in the week at the same display, the booth babe tells me there was another fight involving some teenagers. It was close to closing time and a large group of them came in together (which always makes us nervous - there's a reason why teens can't hang out in malls in groups larger than four in many places). All of a sudden two started screaming at each other and blood was everywhere. One had hit the other in the face and his watch ripped off a chunk of the other kid's forehead, which was now lying on the carpet surrounded by blood splatters, right in front of a beautiful $70,000 car. Awesome.

(This is why you need to stay in school, kids - so you don't have to take a job on the cleaning crew and scrub blood and bits of flesh out of a carpet at an auto show at midnight.)

So far, as far as I know, none of this violence has affected the booth babes but that doesn't mean we're not afraid of it. Easter Sunday used to be Gang Day but Javits and the NYPD had put the kibosh on that in recent years. Regardless, working downstairs in the truck area can be spooky. It's never as busy as upstairs and in the evening can be almost deserted. Definitely not the place to be working a display by yourself, and in fact most now have a rule that there must be at least two (preferably more and at least one male) working downstairs at all times.

I am not going out by being shanked at the auto show, yo.

I've hit the big time: BlogHer!

I received a lovely email earlier this month from BlogHer asking to syndicate one of my posts! Namely, Life after auto show.

Do be a dear and visit it over there, won't you? I know you've read it already and all, but visitors would be nice to show their interest is valid : )

Do You Come with the Car BlogHer story

See, I'm not making this up

A comment came in over the weekend that I decided needed its own post. It is from another booth babe going by the name of "Car People" and backs up some of the stories I've written about here. It also  touches upon a subject I haven't yet: theft and vandalism. Don't worry, I'm getting to that soon.

Here's what this booth babe has to say:

"I can relate to 'Do You Come With the Car?' and while some of the views may seem a bit extreme, an auto show is an extreme environment. I'm sure that there are pro football games that are less intense than an auto show!

In my ten years working in auto shows, I saw tens of thousands of dollars of malicious damage done to cars, and theft of anything that was not nailed down, pop-riveted and spot welded to the floor.

Another challenge was the people who wanted to spend an hour telling you about the time they repaired a puncture on their own Model T Ford (very reminiscent of Grandpa Simpson).

When our security guard caught a guy who had stolen several parts off one of our Mercedes-Benz's he said 'I paid 20 bucks to get in here. I'm entitled to a souvenir.' Our security guard diplomatically replied 'And you're entitled to be introduced to the police so you can show them your great souvenirs.' The guy handed back the stolen stuff and left.

In 1995 as I sat in car with one guy who had perhaps showered once in the 1970's, his B.O. made my eyes water so bad I had to go rinse them for ten minutes afterward.

Taking all that into account, it made me more appreciative of the great people I did meet at auto shows - customers, colleagues and regular people who shared a passion - for cars, technology, design, comfort etc. "

Thanks for sharing your experiences, Car People!

Photo etiquette

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jiazi/ / CC BY-SA 2.0

Everyone with a halfway decent camera at the auto show fancies themselves the next Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue photographer. I assure you, you are not. We are not celebrities, you are not the paparazzi, and for most of us the nature of our jobs does not dictate we must agree to have our photos taken. If I'm not standing on a platform and my coworkers and I see you aim a camera in our direction, you will often quickly see our backs.

There is a very simple way to figure out if it's okay to take my picture.

- If I am standing on a platform next to a car, it's fair game.
- If I am not standing on a platform, ask for permission.

Lots of people do ask and that is awesome! Some of us will say yes, some of us will say no. When we say no we have very good reasons.

Here are some reasons why we say no when you ask to take our picture at the auto show:
You're super creepy
We don't want to be part of your spank book
We're afraid you're going to Photoshop our head onto the body of some naked chick with an ugly face and add it to a porn site
We're pretty sure it's going to wind up in a "Girls of the Auto Show" blog post where men who haven't gotten laid since the recession started will have the audacity to pick apart our appearance
We're not wearing something we're supposed to be wearing and don't want to get busted if someone important happens to see it on the interweb
We wish to retain as much control of our image and how it is used as possible
You're super creepy

All of us ladies at the auto show have developed Spidey-sense and can tell from a pretty fair distance when someone is trying to sneak a photo of us. We will then send a signal to the other girls in the area and strangely all of a sudden you will notice all of our backs are facing you. I've spotted cameras with telephoto lenses on balconies trained on our information desk. I've nabbed guys trying to set us up like a bad pickpocket job, one distracting us with conversation while the other tries to snap photos of my a$$ (that's handled by clasping my fingers behind my back, covering my cheeks while flipping the photog off - I can't be identified anyway because he's only focused on my butt).

One booth babe told me she was asked by a group of teenaged boys to pose by a car of a different manufacturer than the one she repped. She told them she couldn't do that, then inquired why they didn't ask the ladies in that particular booth to do it. "We did," they said. "They told us they weren't allowed to leave the desk."

That booth babe had to break their hearts. "Boys, they just didn't want to take a picture. Sorry." To make them feel better she offered to snap one in front of one of her vehicles, but they were too dejected to even consider it.

But they asked. So if a group of horny teenaged boys can manage that level of civility, why can't you? Ah yes, because you're super creepy.